Uryu's Brown Ballerina
by Pretty Perverts
Summary: AU! Nelliel x Uryuu Working at a book store together Uryu has to figure out his feelings for the new hire. Did I mention that he is socially awkward? Part of a new oneshots Called the Brown Ballerina series. AU! Lemons of course. Long oneshot.


_Uryuu's Brown Ballerina_

 _Ones shot_

His apartment was dark, with dusk gently seeping in from outside in slits through the blinds. A singular vertical beam of light streamed out from the bathroom. All she could hear was the shower running. She took off her clothes, letting them lay in a heap on the floor. She walked to the bathroom and pushed the door open slowly, then carefully and quietly closed it behind her. She could see his silhouette through the shower curtain. He had one palm flat against the tile wall, his head bent. His other hand was stroking himself hard. The shower wasn't on very hard and she could see the water coming down on him lightly. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her heart, which had begun to beat a little faster at the sight of him, and pulled the curtain aside.

He jumped and stepped back into the furthest corner of the shower. His breathing was shallow, and he kept his head bent, staring down at his feet, at the water swirling down into the drain in faint circles, refusing to look at her. He had both his hands in front of him, trying, rather unsuccessfully, to cover his cock. His heart was beating wildly, and he could hear it drumming in his ears, and he was pretty sure she could hear it, even over the gurgling of the drain. He thought of that cartoon skunk whose heart popped out against his chest whenever the girl skunk passed by. He shut his eyes tight. He couldn't believe that was what he was thinking about at a time like this.

"Uy-Uy-Boo?" (Pronounced You-You-Boo)

The way she said his name (well nickname) almost made his heart stop. He would usually tell her to stop calling him that and to stick with the traditional way of saying his name, but now with her voice was low, and husky, and soft. It made him want to cum. He finally opened his eyes, and though his head was still slightly bent, looked at her through his thick eyelashes. She had slipped into the shower, and she was standing there, her hands by her side, looking back at him. Her bright turquoise hair was loose about her shoulders, crinkling up and puffing out because of the water and steam, and there was a smoky look in her eyes. He wanted to grab her and push her on her back and take her right there on the bathroom floor, but he was paralyzed.

She made as if to step closer to him, but he looked away. She didn't get it. She was right there, right in front of him. She knew he wanted her, she could see it through his fingers. She could see it in the way he had looked at her, with his wet hair falling in his eyes, and his gaze drifting from her plump lips, to her breasts, and dipping down a little lower, and that creeping blush that spread on his cheeks.

She went up to him and he wished he could disappear into the wall, and at the same time wanted to lean in closer to her to touch her skin and feel her mouth against his. She reached out and touched his shoulders. He stayed perfectly still and without realizing it, held his breath. She ran her hands down his chest, letting her fingers skim lightly over his nipples and then lower. His stomach was flat and hard, and the skin there was just as pale as the skin on the rest of his body. His muscles contracted wherever she touched him, and each time he could feel sparks racing straight down to his cock. A small strip of hair ran from his belly button and disappeared under his clasped hands. She traced it with a finger, and rested her hands on his.

They were both looking down at that spot now. She put her forehead against his and gently twined her fingers into his, pulling his hands away from himself. His cock was big, larger than she'd thought it would be. She could feel herself getting wet. She pulled a hand away from his and touched him. He pulled in a sharp breath. She ran the tip of her fingers up and down the length of his cock, and he let the breath out in a hiss. She ran a finger over one of his veins that popped out. A bit of pre-cum was leaking out of the little hole, and she touched it and spread it across the head. She wrapped her palm around it tight and felt it jerk in her hand. She felt the jerk in her deep, as if it was pulling at something balled up inside her, trying to set it free. The look of her brown hand on his pale flesh made his breathe shallower, and he curled his free hand into a fist. She squeezed his cock in her hand and his hips involuntarily bucked forward. It made her smile.

She wanted to make him see how much she wanted him. But he was so shy, and so completely unaware of how hot she thought he was. She moved her hand away, pressed herself up against him, and before he could do anything, kissed him. His lips were soft and warm and she kissed him gently, at first. He responded tentatively, resting his hands on her hips and opening his mouth to let her tongue in to explore. He could feel her breasts pressed up against his chest. He loved the contrast of how soft they felt, as opposed to her nipples, which were hard little buds pressing into him, teasing him.

She could feel his heart beating against his ribs, but she wanted more. She wanted him to grab her, to kiss her, to fuck her, to make her come. She curled her fingers into his wet hair and kissed him harder.

He grew bolder, moving his hands to her big, round ass, digging his fingers into the brown cheeks, pushing her hips closer to his so that she felt his cock, hot and stiff and leaking, against her stomach. She made a small, lovely sound of surprise at the back of her throat that told him how much she wanted this, how hungry she was for him. That was all it took to set him off. He forgot how ridiculous he always felt when he was naked in front of someone, he forgot how inexperienced he was, he forgot how confused he was over what he felt for her. She was with him, hot and wet and kissing him, and that's all he cared about.

He pushed her against the opposite wall of the small shower and grabbed the bottom of her thighs, hiking them up onto his narrow hips and spreading her legs wide. She was pinned up between him and the wall, so that she could feel the cold tile against her back and his warm chest against her front. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, pouring all his pent up desire, all those nights he'd spent fantasizing about this moment and jacking his cock off to her laugh, the way her big lips wrapped themselves around a straw, her smile, into that kiss. She tasted sweet, like the rum raisin ice cream she'd had earlier. He skimmed his tongue over her bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth, nipped at it lightly. He moved his lips down to her throat, pressing them up against the slight hollow between her collar bones and leaving a wet trail from there to behind her earlobe.

He moved southward, kissing his way down to the valley between her breasts. At times she would feel the roughness of his tongue and her breath would catch. He pulled away slightly and stared at her chest, and now it was her turn to blush, and she felt the heat spread across her mocha colored breasts, making her nipples ache in anticipation. He kissed one, took the hard nub into his mouth and smiled when she whimpered. He brushed his tongue against it roughly, sending shivers down her spine; he twirled his tongue around it and moved a hand to her other breast, mimicking the motions of his tongue. He nipped at one nipple while pinching the other, sucked on one while rolling the other between his fingers and plucking at it teasingly, making her arch against him and push his head closer to her still. He moved his lips to the side of her breast and sucked hard, biting down and leaving a mark. She wiggled her hips against the sharp pain, surprised by how much she liked it.

He snaked his arm down between their bodies until his hand reached her landing strip that was the same color as the hair on her head.. She gasped when he ran a finger over her slick pouting lips and dug her fingers into his back when he slowly, almost experimentally, pushed a finger into her. He pressed in another, and then a third, and then they were thrusting in and out of her, and his thumb was slipping around, looking for her clit and then he found it and she had to bite down on her lip to keep from gasping. He kissed her again, stroking the roof of her mouth and drawing her tongue into his mouth.

He was mesmerized with how wet she was, how hot she was, how she almost seemed to be sucking him in every time he plunged his fingers into her, how her hips rolled so smoothly against his hand. She was crushing her lips against his, pulling him closer to her, roaming her hands across his back, relishing in how perfectly in sync his tongue was to the thrusting of his thick fingers. She moaned into his mouth and he could feel it all along his cock. She cried out a weak protest that turned into a pleased sigh when he pulled his mouth away from hers, only to place it back on her breast. He gave her puckered nipple a sharp suck just as he waggled his fingers across her juicy pussy, and that was all it took for her to clamp her eyelids shut and clench around his hand and come with a cry of ecstasy in his ear.

He hadn't thought that it was possible, but she looked even more gorgeous when she was coming. The most exquisite look of pleasure came over her face as she quivered above him, and he marveled at having been able to do that to her.

Her body continued to tremble as her orgasm rolled through her, and then she went limp against him. He had one hand on her ass now, and the other one, soaked with her juices, was on her back holding her up. Something was coming over him, a sense of wonder that he had never felt before. She was panting as he pressed his lips against her eyelids, her temples, her forehead. She laughed when he kissed her nose, but she stopped when she opened her eyes, because he was looking back at her so intensely, as if she were the first beautiful thing he had ever seen, that for a second she forgot where she was and who she was and all she cared about was that he was looking at her like that. He was always so serious, unlike herself. Right then there was no trace of his characteristic social awkwardness, only a gaze so steady and earnest that she was startled, and felt more exposed than if she were standing in the middle of a crowded street with no clothes on.

She paused for a second, then pushed his hair out of his eyes and kissed him the way she had at first, softly, trying to tell him with her lips and her tongue what he was doing to her, how he was making her feel things that she wasn't sure she wanted to feel, or was ready to feel. How come he was able to do this to her? How could he make her scared of what she could feel for him, just by looking at her?

He was lifting her up away from the wall now, stepping out of the shower. He made his way toward the door, their lips still fused together, and when her back bumped into it she had to laugh again. He smiled up at her sheepishly and her heart began that ridiculous frenzy of a dance it did whenever he did that. She kissed him again, pulling his tongue into her mouth and sucking on it, making him groan. He fumbled for the doorknob and she smiled against his lips, reaching behind her to easily find it and push the door open.

He stumbled into his room, having to put his hand out to steady himself against a wall when he almost tripped over one of his old college textbooks. Miraculously, he felt, he found the bed through the heavy haze of lust all her laughing had induced in him, and they both tumbled into the tangle of sheets with her beneath him.

She felt as if she could kiss him forever. She loved the feel of his weight over her, the way he pinned her to his bed and how much longer his lean body was than hers, how the rough lines on his pelivs grinded against her smooth ones as they writhed against each other. She loved how he smelled, like a nerdy boy and sex? She loved how she was able to make him groan just by running her hands over his chest and make him buck his hips by kissing him a little harder. She loved the way he ran his hands up and down her sides, stopping every now and then to tweak her nipple and make her moan into his mouth.

He put one hand on each of her breasts, palming them roughly, loving how heavy they were and how they yielded to his touch. She sighed when he left her lips and kissed and nipped his way down her exposed neck and licked the undersides of her breasts. The delicious heat was building up inside of her again as he slipped lower still, leaving a trail of wetness on her stomach as he slipped onto his knees on the floor. A pleasantly surprised and eagerly curious smile spread across her lips. She would have thought that he would be too timid and reserved to try this. But the feel of his hands grasping her calves and pulling her to the edge of the bed, the sheets slipping beneath her back and the way he was pushing her knees wide apart told her a different story.

The cool air hit her swollen lips and her scent filled his nostrils, making him even hungrier for her. She propped herself up on her elbows, watching as he kissed his way up her thighs. She could hardly breathe. When he ran his tongue over her lips, her head fell back in a low moan. He did it again, pushing his tongue a little further in. And then he was sucking on her clit and it was all she could do to remember to breathe between all her cries and whimpers of bliss.

She was all senses now: the feel of the air rushing into her lungs as she panted higher and higher, the feel of his tongue as he plunged it into her sopping, trembling core, his moans reverberating over her engorged flesh. Her hips were rolling against his tongue, and then he shoved three of his long fingers into her and sucked firmly on her pretty fat clit. That was it. She was coming again, arching into his fingers and tongue, a low growl ripping itself from her throat as he sucked and licked at her until the tremors subsided, and she could open her eyes again.

She could taste herself on his lips when he kissed her again, and this one was a slow, intense kiss. It was a wet, grinding, searing kiss that left them both panting and wanting more.

He didn't think he could get enough of her. The noises she made when he did something right, her taste, her smell, the birthmark on the right side of her hip almost the same in color as the one on the bridge of her nose. He wanted more of her, all of her. He wanted to come inside of her, He needed to come inside her. He rolled onto his back, pulling her up on top of him. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed herself up so that she was sitting astride him, one leg on either side of his body.

She looked down at him, spread out beneath her. His hair was rumpled and falling into his eyes again, his rich blue eyes were dark with lust and longing, and his body was waiting for her to touch him. She reached down, placing her hands on either side of his face, remembering how she'd studied it from afar, even when she'd thought he hated her. She ran a finger down his nose and over his lips, scrutinizing his face up close now, admiring the thickness of his brows and the smoothness of his jaw and how wide those dark blue eyes really were. He opened his mouth and nipped at her finger and then pulled it in and sucked on it. Her hands were traveling down his chest again, reaching down to his hard, beautiful cock, wrapping themselves tightly around it and pumping him, drawing a groan from him. She felt how heavy it was, felt the distinction between the softness of the skin and the steeliness of the flesh. It wasn't until she bit down on his neck that he actually growled and tightened his grip on her hips, bucking his hips up against hers in a desperate plea.

And then finally she was lowering herself onto him, luxuriating in how wonderfully he was stretching her, how gloriously he was filling her up. And then their hips were connected and the breath was knocked out of her and she had to sit without moving for a few seconds to adjust to his size. It was better than he ever could have imagined. She engulfed him in a tight, wet heat that made his head swim in the most delicious bliss. And then she was riding him and he watched as she rose up and then slid back down the length of him, sometimes in leisurely, steady strokes that had them marveling at the contours of one another, and sometimes in quick, sharp strokes that had her puffing and then grinding against him to catch her breath.

He was enthralled by the sight of his pale dick disappearing into the carmel brown depths of her over and over again. She was palming her bouncing breasts and yanking at her nipples and the most scrumptious sounds were falling out of her mouth, shouts of "yes, yes, yes," peppered liberally with colorful expletives of "Fuck". Her dirty words spurred him on and he thrust upward, meeting her movements and setting a grueling pace. And then he lifted her over him and slammed her down onto his cock, driving it into her. She was coming again, harder this time, her walls clenching around him. He crashed into her, his balls tightening up and his dick spurting inside of her. She slumped against him as the shudders passed over them. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her, kissing the side of her face, loving the sweet sound of the gasps of air she took next to his ear. "Fuck," she said, and it was his turn to laugh weakly, and the tremors of it ran through both their bodies, reaching his still buried dick and making them both moan.

They stayed like that, hugging each other, kissing each other lazily, and rolling around on the bed, murmuring barely comprehensible sighs of satisfaction to one another until they drifted off to sleep.

A Clockwork Orange, Nineteen Eighty-Four, The Handmaiden's Tale. It had been Nelliel's idea to put books about corrupt governments and societies on display in a kind of tribute to the upcoming state legislature elections. Uryu was placing the books on the table in alphabetical order, but his mind was elsewhere, namely on her, Nelliel Tu. She was always coming up with ideas for the store, like when she decided to give out condoms to every person who bought a book about sex, and when she had started a reading hour for preschoolers. She even made decorations for the store, hanging her original illustrations all over.

He'd thought she would have thought of him as geeky for how much he wanted the store to succeed and stay open, even while major chain stores were opening all around it. But she hadn't rolled her eyes when he'd told her that he kind of loved working there. Instead she had gamely suggested egging the new Books-are-us type store that had just opened a few blocks down. It was weird, how much he liked talking to her. He felt like he could tell her anything.

He remembered the first day she had walked into the store, shoving a half eaten bagel into her oversized purse, patting down her colorful skirt, and readjusting her huge belt. Her hair was in a big braid and encircled her head like a halo, and he could see that she was wearing an orange bra underneath her white tee shirt. She'd walked up to him and said, "Hey, man," as if she'd known him for ages, and then asked about the help wanted sign. Yammamoto, the owner of Bankai Books, had hired her because the sign had been out there for months, and she'd been the first person to ask about it.

He'd been working at the store for over a year, and he was used to running it by himself. He liked how quiet it was, how he could read a book without being interrupted for a good hour. He even liked the people who shopped there: they were usually grizzly bearded college professors looking for books that were out of print, or little old ladies asking him about what book they should read next in their book club. He wasn't used to the jingle of the many bracelets on her arm, or the clunking noises of her knee high boots, or her humming of a random tune. In fact, he was pretty sure that he hadn't liked her at all, at first. He'd never said much to her, and had kind of ignored her presence.

And then one morning he was half awake with a hard on, and instead of ignoring it and taking a shower like he normally did, he'd let his hand slip down his abs to his cock, which was curved up and nuzzling his stomach. He'd let his mind float along the hazy paths it had taken while he had been asleep, and found himself thinking about Nelliel and how good her legs looked in her boots. She had long, toned legs that led up to her curvy hips and held up her generous ass. An unconscious smile curved his lips as he'd thought about her other lovely features: the roundness of her breasts, the fullness of her lips.

His hand had reached down to grasp his aching cock in a tight hold. He'd let his thumb probe the slit that had started leaking precum. He tried to imagine what she would look like naked, how much darker her nipples would be than the rest of her caramelized skin. Could her skin really be as smooth as it looked? What would she like, he had wondered as he'd pumped his hips in rhythm to the firm and steady fisting of his dick. Would she like having her nipples sucked? He'd groaned at the thought, the insistent pressure in him mounting as he wondered whether her moans be soft and breathy in his ear, or loud and demanding? Would he be swallowing down her dirty words with his kisses, or did only sweet words make her come? He was stroking himself furiously now, images of her lips fitting snugly around him and her writhing under him overwhelming his senses. He was thinking about how wonderful she would taste, and then he was coming, all the muscles in his body tensing up and stars popping up behind his eyelids as his hot come gushed out onto his stomach.

He rolled onto his side, shaking as he heard his gasps for air reverberate off the walls of his small apartment.

What the fuck? he'd thought.

He had never had a specific person in mind when he beat off. He'd always found himself thinking of things that turned him on in general: breasts, asses, long legs, the wet sound of a soaked pussy. And Nelliel was such an odd choice, too. He'd only known her for a few weeks, two months at most. He barely knew her. He didn't even like her, actually he couldn't stand her. He'd wanted to shrug his shoulders and tell himself that it was just a freak coincidence that she had popped into his mind.

But he was thinking about it as he took a shower, and as he ignored the man selling cheap watches out of his coat on the subway, and as he tried not to give the waitress a dirty look for telling him his medium cup of coffee was $ 4.69. He was panicking by the time he was unlocking the door to the store. And with good reason, because when she walked in a few minutes later, pulling off her sunglasses, her hair up in a huge bun behind her head, bandana tied around her neck, and boy's shorts hanging low off her wide hips, he had actually tripped over a pile of books.

Did she really just come to work in her panties? They looked like panties.

The day had gotten worse as it wore on, with him stuttering every time he had to say something to her because he was so nervous he would start gawking at her chest instead of looking her in the eye, and then actually spilling his stupid coffee when a guy came into the store and started flirting with her. Then she'd caught him staring at her back, and had given him a quizzical look, as if to say, "What the hell is wrong with you, creep?"

That had been the breaking point. He had to get a hold of himself.

He could have chosen to ask her out. He could have chosen to smile at her the next morning and ask her if she wanted to go to lunch with him. But he'd immediately rejected the idea. He'd always had problems with girls. He never knew what to say to make them laugh, or how to act to make them want to know him. In high school he had hyperventilated every time he'd gotten anywhere near the girl he'd had a crush on. The first time he'd had sex he had been so nervous that he'd come in five minutes, and the girl had pushed him off, a sneer on her face, and left without saying a word. The last relationship he'd been in had been with a willowy girl named Orihime. It had ended abruptly eight months before, with a pathetic email saying how sorry she was to end things, but that she just didn't think he was the guy for her. Two days later he'd seen her with her tongue down the throat of what he supposed was the right guy, a man who looked like he was the worlds biggest prick, or goth.

There was no way he could go through that again.

So when he got home that night he'd made a resolution with himself to stop acting like an idiot around her. He would stop ogling at her, stop thinking about what had happened that morning when he should be ordering new books, and stop resenting the little strip of smooth, flat, brown stomach that appeared every time she raised her hand to reach for a book.

The next day, and for weeks afterwards, he'd kept his promise. He stayed as far away from her as possible, arriving at the store before her and disappearing into the back room when she came in. When she was up at the register, he was unloading books. When she was stocking books, he was on the phone with a customer. He would go out to lunch instead of eating with her in the back room. When they closed, he would come and get her cash drawer without saying a word, count it down without looking at her, and then tell her her balance was even with his back turned to her.

But nothing he did could stop him from smelling the clean, fresh scent of her. He couldn't help noticing that she always threw her head back when she laughed, or that she seemed to have bras in every imaginable color. He discovered that he knew things about her, like that she actually pouted when she was upset, and that she listened to WKRP before coming in to work because she would be humming the songs that they had played that morning. He knew that when she spoke, you shouldn't stand next to her because her hands became very animated with childlike enthusiasm and she had a tendency of hitting whatever was beside her. He knew that she never drank coffee because she thought it was disgusting, and he knew she loved Charms Blow Pops because he noticed that she would unwrap one and stick it into her mouth in the middle of a sentence. She would have a little bulge in the side of her mouth the whole time she was talking. He thought it was cute. He liked the jingle of her bracelets, now.

Even when he was across the room from her, trying his best to ignore the way her sweet mouth pursed and her brow furrowed when she was concentrating on something, he would catch himself sneaking glances at her, and smiling when she shooed away the random people who came into the store trying to sell bootlegged copies of DVDs.

It was torture. The sound of her laugh followed him home at night and teased him until he gave in and put his cock out of its misery. It came to a point where he gave himself and ultimatum. He either had to stop being a pussy and ask her out, or be a total jackass and get Yammamoto to fire her.

That was what he had been thinking as he leaned against the counter one idle morning, when she walked in from the back room. He was about to look away, but she'd caught his eye and had given him a brilliant goofy smile that made his heart stop. He'd known right then that he was a goner.

Nelliel jogged him out of his reverie when she walked up to him and bumped her hip against his.

"Hey," she said teasingly, "shouldn't you be working, or something?"

She didn't wait for him to answer, choosing instead to reach up and kiss him.

"Ahem."

They jumped apart to see Yammamoto standing behind them, a look of disapproval on his old face.

"Sorry," they chorused simultaneously, trying not to laugh, and she scurried back to her place behind the register.

She'd never been this nervous over a boy before. She would watch him out of the corner of her eye, or under her lashes, a surreptitious smile on her lips, savoring the fact that he was hers. She wasn't sure what it was about him that made her so wound up over him. Was it how she would catch him staring at her with a gentle look in his eyes, and then watch as he immediately ducked his head when her eyes caught his? Was it how he would slip his arm around her shoulders or her waist and kiss her forehead while walking down the street? Was it how he let her have the last slice of pizza?

It was all those things, and more. It was how he laughed at her jokes and was interested in her hopes of becoming a children's books illustrator. It was how he'd gone and gotten her a new sketchbook because he'd noticed that the one she had now was running out of pages. It was in the sweet kisses he stole from her every time he was on a break or there were no customers in the store.

What had she ever seen in all those boys she had worn thongs for, and bought makeup for, and tried to cook for? She had always fallen for the boy with the slightly dirty hair that would squeeze her ass in public and would fuck her in the backseat of his car. But that boy would also flirt with other girls in front of her, and ignore whatever she had to say about what she wanted to do with her life, and disappear for days and then show up at her door, expecting her to leap for joy at the sight of him.

She was surprised when she found that she preferred being able to have an actual conversation with a guy, that she enjoyed actually being interested in the things Uryu had to say and wasn't just looking forward to fucking him that night. She was surprised that she wasn't just turned on by his firm ass and dark blue eyes framed by his glasses, but was also attracted to how passionate he was about his stance on a topic, or how he actually looked forward to going to work every day. She wasn't only interested in kissing him and having that beautiful dick of his inside of her; she wanted to talk to him, and spend time just being with him. She wanted to know him.

And as she watched him stocking books onto shelves, stopping every now and then to point a customer in the right direction, she thought she might love him, and that scared her shitless.

She could hardly believe that just a few weeks ago, she'd thought that he hated her. She recalled how he would never say anything to her, would never look her in the eye, would never greet her in the morning. She'd told herself that she was being paranoid, that maybe he was just one of those guys that never said much to anyone. But no, that couldn't have been it, because she would see him having lively conversations with customers all the time. And he and Yammamoto were always arguing over how many copies of certain books they should have, and whether or not they should put some kind of coffee place in the store to entice new customers. But when she would walk into the backroom he would stop talking abruptly and make some excuse to leave. He had even stopped eating lunch in the store, and she was convinced it was so that he could get away from her.

All this would have been fine. All this she would have been able to handle. She'd never been one of those people who just had to have everyone adore them, and so his not liking her shouldn't have meant anything. The problem was that every time she heard his low, slightly husky voice, a delicious shiver would run down her spine. He would be talking on the phone, or to a shopper, and she would stop what she was doing just so that she could listen to him.

Many of times she would find him reading, and she became fascinated with watching the emotions run over his face as his eyes flicked from sentence to sentence. She particularly loved it when he would smile and the sides of his eyes and top of his nose would crinkle up. She watched his hands flipping the pages, a finger pressing down on the corner of a page and then flicking it aside.

He had the perfect hands for a boy: big, with long, thick fingers and veins running down into the backs from his arms and short, clean fingernails. When there was no one in the store she would take out her sketch book and draw his hands, her mind leaping from fantasy to fantasy of what they could do to her. She always hastily shut her book and shoved it under the counter when he passed by and prayed that he couldn't see the heat rushing to her cheeks. She joked to herself that she would have to start carrying a spare pair of panties in her bag, what with how wet she was making herself over him.

She hadn't understood it. Why was she lusting after a man who so obviously had no interest in her? The guy practically balked at her presence. But she kind of liked the sweet torment she was putting herself through. She had never been a shy person. Whenever she liked a guy she had always flirted with him shamelessly, batting her eyelashes coyly and smiling over her shoulder at him. It was different with Uryu, though. She didn't want to toy with him. She luxuriated in the secret pulsing between her pressed legs that started up every time she was close to him. She would press her lips together and tilt her head to the side, hoping that she looked nonchalant as she rocked her hips against the stool. At home she would thumb her clit just enough to make her moan, but not enough to make her come. She didn't want to use her dildo or vibrator. She wanted him, and nothing else would do. It made her wonder if maybe she had a bit of a masochistic side.

And she didn't just want to fuck him, either. She had begun to admire him. She had come to realize that even though it was Yammamoto who owned the store, it was Uryu who actually ran it. Uryu was the one who called in for new books, who arranged book readings with new authors, and who decided how the store would be set up. So much of the store mirrored him. It was as if he had poured a little bit of himself into it. She knew that without him, it would probably have shut down a long time ago.

And then that wonderful day had come when he'd brought orange juice and chocolate chip muffins in for breakfast. How had he known they were her favorite? Something had changed. He wasn't ignoring her anymore. When she had walked into the back room that morning he had been in there, as if he'd been waiting for her. He had smiled at her almost cautiously, as if he were nervous. His hand had shaken a little when he'd handed her a muffin. That day, and the days after, he hadn't walked away from her with a lame excuse when she approached him. He helped her unpack the magazines and set them up on their racks, and helped her tape up a poster she had made for a sale they were about to have.

What is going on, she'd thought. Why had he suddenly started being nice to her? Wishful thoughts had started to leak into her mind, teasing her with the possibility that maybe he felt something for her, something close to what she was feeling for him. She had to shake her head to get these thoughts out. He was just being the good guy that he was, and his attitude had nothing to do with her. Her lusting after him was obviously starting to affect her thought processes; she'd have to get laid soon or else she would start thinking that when he handed her a book what he was really doing was professing his love to her.

One night they were cleaning up after they had flipped over the open/closed sign and had locked the door. They were picking up books shoppers had left in the wrong place, sweeping, and recording how many items they'd sold that day. She'd gotten the key to her drawer from Uryu and had unlocked it, picked it up and carried it against her hip to the back room. The lights were dim in there, as they always were, making the shadows a little deeper, a little softer. She had walked over to him, plopping her drawer down on the counter. She'd smiled at him as he handed her his drawer and she handed him hers.

This was her favorite part of the day. She loved standing next to him as they counted down each other's drawers. She drank in the feeling of being so close to him that she could feel his body heat. Every now and then their elbows would touch, or the back of his hand would brush against hers, and she'd feel a little spark that would zing right up her arm and make her grin ridiculously. Then he would turn to her, leaning against the counter in a way that made her want to just tear his glasses and slightly geeky clothes off, and he would tell her that her drawer was even. She'd nod and tell him the same. She always felt as though there were a curious tension between them at these moments, but she pushed the thought aside, telling herself that she was being silly. Then he would pick up both drawers and lock them away in the safe. She would throw her purse over her shoulder, he would slip into his sweater. They would walk to the door together, and he would let her step out first. She would watch as he locked the door, just as Yammamoto insisted she do, and then Uryu would say bye to her, giving her an awkward yet strangely charming wave, and then walk away toward his apartment.

But tonight was different. She hadn't quite been able to push the thought of stripping him naked out of her head as easily as she was usually able to, so she was clutching her sketch book to her chest to give her fingers something to do. A chilly wind whipped her skirt around her legs as she watched him lock the door. He'd dropped the keys twice, muttering apologetically before he was able to slip the right one in the slot and turn it. He had turned to her and she waited expectantly for him to give her the wave. But he didn't. Instead he stood there, looking down at the sidewalk. He'd shoved his hands into his pockets and was shuffling his feet. She was about to ask him what was wrong when he looked up at her.

It had been about all she could do not to gasp. He wasn't looking at her the way he usually did, with a sort of guarded look in his eyes. There was no hesitance in his eyes now. Just pure, unadulterated desire.

"Nelliel," he'd said. She'd never heard her name sound so sexy before. Her mind had gone blank as she'd stared back at him.

Why was he stepping closer to her?

Her heartbeat sped up.

Why was his face so close to hers?

Her breath caught in her throat.

Why could she feel his warm breath against her lips?

She leaned in without thinking.

And he was kissing her. She drank him in: the feel of his hands on her face, the softness of his sweater rubbing against the back of her hands, the way his tongue brushed against the roof of her mouth. His kiss was better than any of the ones she had dreamed up in her mind. Nothing she could imagine could compare with the warmth of his lips, the tickle of his glasses on her cheeks, the heat that spread from his tongue down to her crotch. And then he was pulling away and gazing at her, as if he were asking her something.

She stared blankly up at him, her mind still trying to process what had just happened, even as her lips itched for him to kiss her again. But a look of panic had come into his eyes just as he'd pulled his hands away from her face. He stepped away from her, his head down again.

"I'm sorry," he'd mumbled. "I didn't mean to... I shouldn't have..." He shook his head and started to walk away.

Wait. What?!

"No, Uy-Uy-Boo," she called after him. "Come back!"

He didn't. Instead he started walking faster, his shoulders hunched up against his ears and his hands in his pockets again. She was immobilized, unsure whether to run after him, but then he turned a corner, and he was gone.

She hadn't known what to do. She'd stood there dumbly, wondering what the hell had just happened until an idea struck her. She ran to the pizza place across the street. She looked around her frantically, and when she finally spotted it, she'd grabbed the phone book and had run into the phone booth. Her finger skimmed down the names, hoping against hope that he wasn't unlisted. There it was: Ishida, Uryu. She dug her hand into her purse, looking for that slip of paper Yammamoto had given her in case she'd come in one morning and Uryu wasn't there. She compared the two numbers. They were the same.

She had run to his apartment that night, barreling through drunken undergrads and late joggers, slipping into his building behind an unsuspecting tenant, and sprinting up the steps to his door. She hadn't planned on seducing him. The door had just been miraculously unlocked, and when she'd walked in, taking her clothes off had been the first thing to come to her mind.

There weren't any awkward silences between them anymore, just jokes and playfully dirty grins and steamy make out sessions during their lunch hour that had them tugging their clothes back into place and patting down their hair when it was time to go back into the store.

That night they walked to his apartment together, her arm interlocked with his and her head on his shoulder. She'd been spending more and more time at his place because it was closer to the store and unlike her, he had no roommates. She had clothes there now. He didn't mind that she hung her bras up in his shower, and she didn't mind that he liked to sleep with the window open all night.

They walked up the stone steps together, she laughing at a joke he'd just made, and she waited while he unlocked the door.

"Wait, I just need to check my mail," he said to her, and she nodded. She watched him yank out a heap of papers from his ridiculously small mailbox. One envelope was a maroon-ish color and smaller than the others. It looked oddly familiar.

"What's that?" she pointed to it.

He glanced at her, grinning broadly and shrugging. "I don't know. Why don't you open it and find out?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, taking the envelope from his hands. It had his address on it, but for some reason it was her name that was written above it. She glanced at him quizzically, then peered at the top left hand corner of the envelope. _Shonen Jump, Inc.,_ it said.

"Oh my God."

Her hands started to shake. Shonen Jump was a publishing company based out of the city. It was the company that had published every Tite Kubo manga, which was a popular series about a boy who lived in suburbia and had to fight off hollows. All the books had had the same illustrator, but he'd recently had a huge fight with the company over his salary and had refused to draw for them anymore, breaking his contract and resulting in a very public lawsuit. But Shonen Jump still had to get the book out within the next few months, with the old illustrator or not, and every prospective illustrator in the city knew that.

"Oh my God, Uy-Uy-Boo. What did you do?" she demanded.

"Seriously, Nelliel, I don't know. You're just gonna have to open it," he replied mischievously.

She shook her head at him, frowning disapprovingly. "You're such an asshole."

But all he did was shrug and gesture to the envelope, still grinning.

She took a deep breath, turning it over in her hand, preparing herself for the inevitable. She ripped it open, slowly pulling out and unfolding the one sheet of paper.

 _Dear Miss Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck,_

she read,

 _thank you for sending us a copy of your portfolio._

Her heart was thumping in her chest.

 _I am happy to tell you that I found your drawings to be most exemplary and delightful in their imaginativeness. The creativity and originality I see in your work is just what we at Shonen Jump are looking for to take our publications to the next level. Please feel free to contact me at the number below. Once again, thank you for your interest in working with us. I look forward to meeting you._

 _Sincerely, Hyoe Narita_

She paused, not believing what she had seen, and glanced at Uryu. Her eyes went back to the letter, reading over it twice before, finally, she let out a squeal of excitement.

"Aaaaaaaaaa!" The squeal turned into a laugh as she jumped on him in glee and flung her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his.

"When did you do this?" she cried. "Why did you do this? Where'd you get my portfolio? How did you know about Shonen Jump?"

"Whoa, slow down. You told me about them, remember?" he said, hugging her and rocking from side to side.

"And you d-didn't have t-the ah -" she was kissing behind his ear and biting on his earlobe, "You didn't have the guts, so I did it for you."

"I didn't have the guts, huh?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. She bit his neck, then pulled back to inquire, "And what would you have done if I'd been rejected?"

She was kissing him again before he could answer, sucking on his tongue the way she knew would make him groan.

"I have no idea," he answered. One of the other residents passed by them on the way to get his mail, and he stared pointedly at the pair of them, sniffing a little as he passed by them.

"Maybe we should get going," he muttered against her mouth.

"Mmmhmm," was all she could manage to reply with her mouth pressed up against his.

They kissed as they stumbled up the stairs, barley getting into his apartment before he was pulling her shirt over her head. She could feel her blood pumping through her veins, hear it rushing from her heart to all her limbs, to the ends of her fingertips as they plucked at his shirt buttons. She was elated; she'd always been an independent girl, even as a child. She never relied on anyone but herself, and never expected much from others. She wasn't used to people doing anything for her, let alone something so thoughtful and sincere. The rush she got from his surprise sent her heart pounding and intensified every caress of her lips and sigh of her voice.

She kissed him long and hard, loving the way he responded to her, the way he would abandon the shyness that she always associated with him and grab her ass as if he couldn't get enough of her. The way his hands were tugging at her bra and peeling off her panties enveloped her mind in a heady mix of sensuality and strength. It amazed her that he could do this to her, that he could make her feel like she owned the world just by showing her that he wanted her.

She pulled away from his lips, kissing her way down his neck, giving in to the temptation to bite him there. She journeyed lower, skimming her teeth over his nipples and smiling when she heard his sharp intake of breath. He went still as he watched her unfastening his belt, tried to control his breathing as she slipped to her knees and slid his pants over his hips, bit down on his lip at the first lightning bolt caress of her tongue. She kissed and licked her way from the base of his cock to the angry swollen tip. Her hands were fondling his heavy sacs, teasing him, then rubbing up and down his thighs and over his quivering abs, then around to his ass, pulling him closer as she sucked the head into the wonderfully wet warmth of her mouth.

He thought he could feel his bones disintegrating as she slid more of him into her mouth, the smooth caress of her cheeks engulfing him in a sweet torment that had him thrusting his hips forward. She let his cock slide in a little deeper until she could feel the tickle of his hair against her nose, pressed her lips around him a little tighter, savoring the feel of his veiny cock, and purred her appreciation of the granite contours of his length. She felt herself getting wetter as the movement of his hips became less controlled, more erratic. She felt his hand grasp her hair and she peered up at his face to see what she was doing to him.

His eyes were heavy with lust and his lips parted as his breath stuttered in his chest. She moved her head back, letting him slide out off her mouth with a pop. She found his tight globes, pulling each one into her mouth for a good suck, and he thought he would explode with the need to come. Her mouth was working over him again, her head bobbing, her tongue probing his slit and exploring the sensitive underside, her eyes a sultry gray hazel with desire as they bore into his. And suddenly her lips curved into a dirty little smile around his dick and she gave him a wink that was so wicked and recklessly teasing that it was all he could do to cry out her name while he surged forward, shaking as he felt her swallow him down, his come spurting down her throat.

She was already on her feet, sashaying over to his bed and grinning from ear to ear as he slid down to the floor, crouching with his head against the door, trying to catch his breath. He watched her as she stretched out on the mattress, then pulled the sheets around her.

"Uy-Uy-Boo, won't you come and play with me?" she called out in a sing song voice.

He pushed himself up from the floor, smiling, and walked over to her. She was completely covered, peering up at him from under the sheets innocently, as if she hadn't just made him shout out her name in elation. He picked up a corner of the sheet and slowly dragged it off of her, then stood there, his eyes roaming over her body.

She was so beautiful. It wasn't just her body, either. It was the way that she was able to give herself over to him without question, the way she would spend hours perfecting one drawing, making sure it was exactly what she wanted it to be, the way she was able to be who she was without any doubt. It fascinated him, how someone could be so confident and still be so unaffected.

He was doing it again. He was looking at her the way no other boy ever had, with that serious look on his face, that look that was genuine and completely exposed to her. It made her lose all signs of her previous playfulness. She had to look away from him because that gaze held so much honesty in it that she felt as though she shouldn't see it.

"Nelliel Tu"

How could his voice be so gorgeous? It was low and smooth and it slid over her like an enchantment and sent shivers through her.

He bent over her, reaching for her face and dipping his head to kiss her. His tongue was gentle as it swept her mouth. She twisted her head to the left, the better to skim her tongue over his smooth teeth, sucked in a shuddering breath as his lips traveled to the side of her mouth. His kisses were searing spots of heat sprinkled across her jaw line to her ear, where he pulled her lobe into his mouth, nibbling on it and sucking away his teeth marks. She welcomed his warmth and weight as he settled over her and stretched like a cat against him, delighting in the way her skin rubbed up against his. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair, gripping it for a moment, pressing his head closer to her skin, and then sliding themselves through it. She breathed in, letting her lungs fill themselves up with the smell of him, with the smell of both of them, together. She let her hands roam down his back, her palms flat against his skin. She loved the sound he made when she gripped his firm butt and pushed his hips to hers and ground up against him.

He was kissing her again as his fingers teased her. They would tweak and roll her nipples just enough to make her moan into his mouth, then scuttle down her stomach and between her legs to cup her mound, the flat palm of his hand grinding against her, creating a delicious friction. His thumb would rub and nip at her clit, making her buck her hips. A finger would dip into her, give her a few tantalizing strokes and then retreat to just caress her swollen lips, making her bite into his shoulder and mewl. He was driving her crazy. She laced her arms around his, trying to bring him in closer, but he resisted, pulling himself up away from her.

"Uryu"

Her voice was a low growl. He had to smile: she only used his full name when she was really frustrated. His hands went to her thighs and pushed them open wide so he could look at her. It always surprised her whenever he did this. He was incredibly curious, for someone who was so shy. The cool air of the room hit her open pussy and she breathed in her own scent. She watched him as his dark blue eyes seemed to devour her. She could see the hunger in them and the luscious fire in her mounted at the thought that she could bring that out in him.

He leaned over her, relishing the way his narrow hips fit so snugly between her parted russet thighs. He looked down at her, loving the way her lids dipped down her eyes, the lazy smile playing about her lips. They parted with a quick intake of breath when his cock brushed up against her. Her hands went to his hips, gripping him, helping him as he pushed inch after delicious inch of himself in her. He stayed like that for a moment, completely buried in her, watching the emotions flit over her face as she soaked in the pleasure of being filled up by him. She never looked better than when she was enjoying herself. He pulled himself back and then pushed back in, using slow, deep thrusts that made them both grunt out their pleasure with every stroke, that seemed to pierce through her and push her closer and closer to the edge of a chasm that was enticing her with the ecstasy she knew she would find just beyond it. He shoved into her one last time, knocking the breath out of her, and she came with her arms clasped around him. He collided with her, the muscles in his body seizing up as he emptied himself into her.

They were both panting, their breath hot against each others' cheeks as they continued to hold onto one another. She closed her eyes as she regained her breath and smiled as he pressed his lips weakly to hers. She brushed his hair back as he settled against her, pulling the sheets up to cover her and resting his head just under her breasts, with his ear pressed against her ribcage. He fell asleep to the sound of her slowing heartbeat and the feel of her fingers running along his scalp.

She loved this part of fucking him as much as anything: the peace she felt afterwards, the way she actually wanted to stay with him and continue feeling his body next to hers. Usually after she came she was done, she was ready to get up and go, never letting herself want anything more regardless of whether or not the other person was willing to give it. But with Uryu she wanted to stay. She would let her mind travel while her fingers played languidly in his hair, let it drift until she fell asleep and couldn't remember in the morning exactly when she'd dozed off. She knew what she felt for him and her heart would skip a beat every time she thought about it. But was she ready to feel that way? Was she ready to feel so much for someone else, ready for everything else that came with admitting she felt that way?

Nelliel kept her eyes closed the next morning, even though she knew she was awake. Light poured into his bedroom from his open window, seeping past her eyelids. She could hear the noises of early morning drifting past her: a garbage truck rumbling down the street and stopping, then rumbling on; the faint cry of the baby two apartments down wanting a morning snack; the flutter the wings of fat city pigeons getting ready for a day of picking at food thrown out of car windows. She pressed her thighs together and sucked in a soft breath, savoring the sweetly dull aching between her legs.

She could hear his deep and steady breathing behind her and feel its warmth against the crook of her neck. One of his legs was thrown lazily over hers and one of his arms draped over her side. She had to smile at this because she loved how it felt to have him so close to her. It was a kind of simple physical satisfaction, the kind she got when she stepped out into the sun after being under fluorescent lights all day.

She rolled over as quietly and carefully as she could, turning to face him, not wanting to wake him and not wanting him to move away from her either. She studied him while he slept, soaking in all the things that made him so beautiful to her. His hair was a total mess, rumpled and matted and falling across his forehead. The sheets tangled themselves around his long limbs, bunching up low on his hips and making her want to sneak her hands under them. His pale hand now rested on her hip. His face was calm and peaceful, his chest rising and falling in time to his faint snores.

Could she tell him?

She bit down on her lip as she wondered. She'd never meant those words before. Sure, she'd said them a couple of times. But they never meant anything. She'd said them as teasing little treasures, things meant to tempt and beguile. The words had never held any weight. They had never tied themselves to her, squeezing around her heart and drumming a rhythm all across her veins every time she thought of saying them.

Was it too early? Did he feel the same? Would she scare him away?

The words had never made her question herself before. She had dropped them casually, not caring how they landed or what response she would get to them. But not now. This time she wondered if the words could even express what she wanted to say. This time the words made her feel vulnerable.

Fuck it. She was going to say them because she wanted him to hear them. She was going to say them because they were true.

"Uy-Boo?" She raised a hand to his face, pushed his untidy hair out of his eyes. "Uryu?" She brought her lips closer to his when she said his name, smiling at the way he grumbled at her and wrinkled his nose in protest.

"What is it?" he mumbled.

"I want to tell you something."

He sighed, pulling himself closer to her, burying his face in the crook of her neck to block out the sunlight. "Can't this wait until I'm awake?" he muttered.

"No," she said, running her fingers down his back.

Allright."

Her mouth was unexpectedly dry. Her heart was racing. She took a steadying breath.

"I - I don't know how to say this." She cleared her throat. "I mean, I don't know if I should say this. I, uh," God, when had she become so inept with words? "You are..." She licked her lips. "You are such a great guy. You're nice to me. You listen to me and - and always ask what I want before ordering Chinese food and you kiss me even when I'm grumpy and I'm being bitchy and you make me smile all the time... I think I- what I mean is - "

He had gone still against her.

Fuck, she thought. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She suddenly wished she could turn back time, find some way to pull all those words back into her mouth. Why the fuck had she said them? Goddamnit!

He raised his head slowly and stared at her, even as she looked away and started to move away from him.

"You know what, forget it. I'm hungry. I think I'll make some - "

"Me, too."

She stopped abruptly and turned back to face him. There was a huge grin on his face.

"What?" she asked breathlessly.

"I love you." He said it with conviction, with no trace of nervousness or shyness, so much so that she thought she was imagining things.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you right."

"I love you, Nelliel Tu. I fucking love you."

"Aaaaaaa!" She let out a shriek of happiness and tackled him, rolling onto him and hugging him to her. Laughter bubbled up inside of her, and she let it fall onto his lips as she kissed him. Now the words were easy to say, not because she didn't care but because she wasn't scared.

She looked him straight in the eye. "Uryu Ishida, I love you."

And the grin he gave her was as bright as her own.


End file.
